


Rest Your Weary Head

by MK_Yujji



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Mentions of PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 10:19:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5453111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MK_Yujji/pseuds/MK_Yujji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve gets bad news and Tony really sucks at comforting people, but it's the thought that counts, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rest Your Weary Head

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daisybelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisybelle/gifts).



> Civil War? I spit in the face of Civil War. (no, really I'm waiting in breathless anticipation, but I hope Steve and Tony come out okay in the end) 
> 
> This was originally intended to be full on slash, but it didn't quite make it past vaguely, possibly pre-slash land. Oops? 
> 
> I was also trying to work my way around the prompt "Cuddling after a nightmare". Not sure how well I actually did. I hope daisybelle likes it anyways.

"What'd that poor bag ever do to you?" Tony asks from the doorway of the gym where Steve has been hiding for the last hour. 

Steve does't stop the steady rhythm of punches. It soothes him far more than it probably should. "Did you want something?" 

"Not really." There's a moment of silence punctuated only by the sound of taped fists meeting vinyl with a truly terrible amount of force. Tony isn't good with silence, though, and he wanders over to peer at Steve curiously. "Sam looks like he had to kick your puppy and he's seriously rethinking his life choices."

Ignoring the way Tony asks questions without asking questions, Steve considers how much longer he can take his fear and frustration out on the heavy bag before his fellow Avenger does something inadvisable in the name of forcing his attention to refocus.

He considers the crunch of bone, the way skin sounds when it's impacted by skin. The thought shouldn't give him a twinge of satisfaction, but he's angry and upset and it does. Just a little.

Tony doesn't think that Steve has a dark side. He somehow imagines that Steve managed to escape the sickness and poverty of his youth, the second World War, 70 years in the ice, and the resurgence of HYDRA without any of it truly affecting him.

Steve isn't sure how Tony can keep calling himself a genius and still hold on to that kind of idiocy.

Anyone else who has ever seen him alone in a gym knows exactly why he's there. He's not really sure how Tony misses it. 

Willful ignorance, most likely. Steve having a dark side doesn't fit into Tony's world view and like so many other things that aren't the way he thinks they should be, Tony ignores it. Pretends it doesn't exist.

It's almost enough to make Steve want to punch him some days. 

Sighing, Steve reaches out to stop the heavy bag's sway and leans his forehead against it. It's not Tony's fault that he's in a bad mood. It's not even Sam's fault, for all that he brought unpleasant news with him. It's not them that he's mad at. Hydra is a better target for his rage given the part that they're still playing in his own personal demons, and even they aren't really why he's down here trying to punch the bad memories away.

He'll never be as mad at anyone else as he is at himself for not catching Bucky all those years ago.

"Steve? You okay?" For Tony, that's downright gentle as is the hesitant touch on his elbow.

Steve takes a ragged breath. This is his problem, not Tony's. Tony has troubles enough all on his own without Steve laying his on the man's shoulders. Everything in him says to nod his head and plaster on a smile. 

He can't find any of his masks tonight, though. Can't force himself to remember anyone else's problems. He's too exhausted, too heart-sick. The sound of Bucky's scream as he literally slipped through Steve's fingers is too loud.

"Rumor has it that the brass wants to offer Bucky up as scapegoat for everything that's gone wrong since Thor took Loki away. And a fair bit that came before." His voice breaks on Bucky's name, but the rest comes easily enough. He knows how bitter he sounds and for once he can't even care. "They want to take the world's longest held POW and put him down for everyone else's crimes. Including ours."

There's a long moment of silence, then Tony lets out a harsh breath. He doesn't know everything. What Natasha dumped on the web, sure, but not the stuff that went down on the hellicarriers or that Steve and Sam have been discreetly looking for Bucky ever since Steve had woken up afterwards. He can't possibly know about the snowy mountains that haunt Steve's nightmares or the screams that follow him into the waking world. He can't know how hard it is for Steve to get on a damned train anymore. 

He still manages to sum the entire thing up with two simple words. "Well, shit."

A choked laugh escapes Steve. "Yeah."

His breath catches and he squeezes his eyes shut as tightly as he can, wishing desperately that he could make the screaming go away. It's always a little louder than even the mortar shells he still hears when he isn't paying attention, but tonight it's deafening. "I shoulda caught him. It wouldn't- He'd be _okay_ if-"

"What? Hey, no, look-" The touch at his elbow solidifies as Tony uses it to pull him away from the bag and into a tight hug. "Steve, it's not your fault. Statistically speaking, he'd probably be dead if you'd caught him."

That's… 

Steve snorts and slumps over so that he can rest his head against Tony's shoulder. "You're horrible at comforting people."

And he's wrong besides, but Steve isn't going to be the one to tell Tony about the experiments that Bucky'd been forced to endure long before Steve failed to stop his long fall from the train.

"It's been said," Tony agrees, patting his back. "Seriously, though. What happened to Bucky? That's on Hydra and Schmidt and a lot of people. It's not on you and I didn't know the guy, but from the stories Dad and Peggy used to tell, I'm pretty sure he'd smack you for this. I _know_ they would."

"Probably." Forcing himself to take a few deep breaths, Steve relaxes a little. It's not a comfortable position, but he isn't in any hurry to back up, either. No one really touches him anymore. Not since Bucky. It's strange the things he misses these days. He lets his hands rest against Tony's ribs, careful not to grip as tightly as he wants. "You're really short."

The shoulder under his head shrugs up sharply in protest. "Hey now Goliath, I will have you know that I am _not_ short, I am fun sized. Here I am, providing actual care and support for my Captain and all I'm getting is verbal abuse. I'm going to file a report. I'm told verbal abuse is a reportable offense."

Usually, Steve would either roll his eyes or laugh at the way Tony turns everything into some kind of joke but for once he can't quite manage it. He tries to laugh because it was at least a little amusing and it didn't poke actual fun at anyone except Tony himself. The sound catches in his throat, though, and it comes out more sob than anything else.

It'd be humiliating if Steve was in the right mind to care.

"Oh shit, don't- umm…" The patting on his back becomes a confused mash-up of petting and patting while Tony tries unsuccessfully to rock him. "Help? Friday? Please tell me we have someone better at this whole comforting gig than me in the building?"

The pleasant, faintly accented voice that answers is never going to sound right even if Steve is slowly getting used to Jarvis's replacement. He's not sure how Tony stands it. "Sam Wilson is still in the building, Sir."

"Send him down, please?"

"'M okay," Steve mumbles against the soft cotton of Tony's shirt. "Friday, don't bother Sam."

"You don't _sound_ okay. You sound like crap. I mean, you already looked like crap, but you sounded sort of okay until I made you cry. Please don't tell Pepper or the others that I made you cry? My reputation will not survive. I might not, either, if it makes it back to Natasha." He doesn't force the issue of calling Sam, though. "Also, I may not be short, but I don't think your back is going to like it if we stand like this for much longer. You are way too fucking tall for my shoulder."

Despite the words, he doesn't let go.

Steve takes another minute or three to get himself back under control. It's shaky and he can't swear it won't crumble again at the slightest provocation, but it'll do until he can make it back to his room. He stands up straight, ignoring the way his back wants to cramp. 

Before he can say anything, Tony is tucking fingers inside his sleeves and using them to wipe the tears off of Steve's face. "You really don't have the complexion for crying, do you?"

"Good thing I don't do it often," Steve replies, voice a little hoarse. He almost can't stand the continued care now that he's wrapped everything back up in the corner of his mind where it belongs. It threatens to undo him all over again. 

Tony nods before tucking his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. "Guess you were due."

"I'll be fine, Tony."

Another nod as Tony purses his lips and considers Steve. "I'll look into it. The thing… about Bucky. Maybe we can find a way to head it off at the pass." 

"Maybe." He isn't very optimistic, but it probably can't hurt to let Tony poke at things. If it's really execution orders coming through, Bucky's situation with the brass can't really get any worse.

His control wobbles at the thought and he has to take another deep breath, terribly conscious of the way Tony is watching him like he's a bomb that might need to be diffused.

He supposes that isn't that far from the truth.

Tony reaches out again, his hand a solid warmth against Steve's shoulder. "Trust me, Steve. Talking my way around bureaucratic vultures - military or political - is a thing that I am very good at."

Steve leans into the touch and nods. "I do, Tony. I trust you."

That gets him a brilliant smile. "Excellent. In the mean time, if you need to punch the crap out of my heavy bags, they are yours for the punching. Or, you know, if you need a shoulder to slouch over, Pepper has a good chiropractor on our payroll so we're all good there, too."

It takes a moment to parse the offer out of Tony-speak. Then Steve smiles faint, but genuine. "Thanks, Tony."

The screams aren't completely silent - Steve isn't even sure if they can be anymore - but they're muffled for now. 

It's enough.

 

_fin_


End file.
